Thorne came down fast and furious upon John. Being used to get what she wanted, and proud of her superhuman strength, she wished to dispatch the stranger with one swift show of merciless brute force.

John knew spiders, even the smaller ones, were stronger than they looked. A human sized spider would be a mighty foe for any mortal man. However, he also knew that there was nothing natural about the Dweller, and that most unnatural beasts had formidable weaknesses to offset their formidable might. Whispering unintelligible words under his breath, his brow furrowed and streaming with sweat, he fought his natural impulse of rolling out of the way of the incoming juggernaut, and raised his guitar as a shield.

The Dweller laughed, and bore down both her claws with the fullness of her hideous strength. Suddenly, her eyes widened both in surprise and horror, but by then it was too late.

The guitar smashed in a thousand splinters, and the shock threw the man to the floor of the cavern. There was a loud hiss like that of hot oil doused with water, a terrible stench, and the shrill scream of pain from the Dweller echoing throughout the cavern.

John's hands were bleeding from a number of splinter cuts in his hands, but the war veteran was no stranger to pain and didn't take his eyes from his foe. The silver cords of his guitar were wrapped around her wrists like exotic jewelry, the metal strings glowing hot and tightening their grip as she frantically tried to tear them away.

"AIEEEE! SILVER! HAADE! MIKADED! RAKEBEN! RIKA! TASARI—!"

"Now or never," thought John. Pushing the pain away, he jumped nimbly next to the Dweller and stuffed a page from his book into the Dweller's mouth, silencing her incantation. Then, looking in your direction he yelled,"Now girl!"

Still tied to the altar, you begin repeating the words John had you memorize moments before. Your tongue tingled as you said them, and felt as if not just sound, but actual force was issuing from your throat as you spoke. John followed your lead with a melodic litany of his own, and you both continued the refrains till the power made your throats hoarse. Then the aged paper inside the Dweller's throat flashed like magnesium, and the white hot light continued until nothing remained of the Dweller but pestilent ashes.

John walked to where you were, and unfastened your manacles. "I am mighty sorry you had to go through this, miss" he said, almost sheepishly. "But against a foe like that, pride becomes a weapon. Your helplessness, and me being disarmed, fed her ego, made her act brashly."

"Is it really over?"

John walked to the mound of ashes, and picked up cleanly the silver strings. "This is becoming sort of a habit," he mumbled to himself. Then, to you, "Well, it's hard to tell. One thing's fer sure: this here house, and the catacombs beneath, have been here even before Penelope Thorne bought the place. It acts as a beacon for all sorts of malign things, and we'd be wise to leave this sour place now. "

"What about the others? What I'm going to tell their families happened?"

"The others let themselves be seduced by the Dweller’s promises. They are now as part of these poisoned grounds as the walls in this cavern. As for the second... I hate lies... but I know you will pro'lly face imprisonment or confinement in a madhouse if you were to speak any of it. Just... say that you left them, that you didn't like where they were going and you left on your own, that you haven't seen them ever since."

"That," you said, lowering your head and voice, "was my initial impulse. I hate myself for not listening to it. I... I don't know how to thank you..."

John smiled, gentlemanly lowering you from the altar, and leading you towards the exit. "As a matter of fact, miss... I reckon I saw a mighty fine guitar on the back of your car..."